


What is and What Shouldn't Be

by mulder_its_me



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Beekeeping, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, PTSD John, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sherlock Holmes and Bees, Slow Burn, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 05:14:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16654909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mulder_its_me/pseuds/mulder_its_me
Summary: Sherlock Holmes lives in a large house in the country where he keeps to himself and tends to his bees. John Watson, who has just come back from the war rents a room in the house. At first, Sherlock tries to ignore the presence of the other man, only used to living on his own. But, John is everywhere and he is interesting. The two men slowly fall into a friendship. Sherlock helps John cope with his new PTSD and John helps Sherlock work through his own issues. Somewhere along the road, their relationship crosses into something more than just friendship. Slow burn, angst, fluff, a bit of everything.This is not set in 2018 or any recent years. There is no specific year or decade that it's set in, but not too modern. Title comes from the Led Zeppelin song.





	What is and What Shouldn't Be

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter is a little short. The rest should be longer but I felt like it was a nice introduction to the story. Tell me your thoughts!

The house is very large, almost castle-like. Its several hundred years old and sits on a plot of flat land with a small forest in the back. The property goes on for acres and acres and the lane way leads to a dirt road without another house for miles. To the side of the house, a large greenhouse sits and past that, there's an impressively sized apiary. The house is quiet and lonely inside. There's a large sitting room and an impressive kitchen. The dining room consists of a long, wooden table and an intricate chandelier. There's one large master bedroom and several guest bedrooms. The house is old, the wooden floor creaks and the doors groan. 

Inside, the smell of honey wafts through the air. A man stands in the kitchen, bent over the counter, carefully pouring honey into individual Mason jars. His hair is dark and curly and sticks out at all angles. He wears a dark blue dressing gown that billows out around him. His focus is unbreakable as he carefully pours the honey in each jar. Theres dozens of them, lined up against the back of the counter. Each one is tied with coloured ribbon and has a printed label on the side that says, "Holmes' Honey." 

The man, Holmes -- Sherlock Holmes -- brushes his curly hair out of his eyes and continues working. His nose is scrunched up in concentration as he makes sure the honey doesn't drip down the side of the jar. Suddenly, there's a loud, shrill ringing that cuts through the air. Sherlock jumps and the honey spills a little. He sighs, setting the honey down and walking over to the phone, which hangs on the wall in the kitchen. He picks it up and holds it to his ear. 

"Holmes' Honey," he speaks. "Oh, hello Stamford." He goes quiet for a moment, listening to the voice on the other line. His eyebrows raise suddenly, with surprise. "Really? You've found someone? Yes, yes! Um...you can bring him over as soon as possible. Thank you!" He hangs the phone up and a smile spreads across his face. He brings a hand up and wipes it across his face. Then, without another moment, he turns back to his honey. 

 

*

The next morning, Sherlock wakes up early. His friend Stamford is coming over with Sherlock's new flatmate. For years, the man's been trying to find someone to rent out one of the guest bedrooms but none of the previous people lasted very long. Sherlock slicks back his curls, so they sit flat on his head and dresses in a maroon long sleeved polo shirt, tucked into a pair of dark jeans. He does his best to clean up the guest bedroom, to make it look presentable and smell fresh, but there's only so much he can do. After all, the house is decades old. 

At 9am, Stamford's car comes down the long laneway. Sherlock stands on the large, front porch, watching as Stamford steps out and another man steps out of the passenger side. He comes down the steps and greets them. 

"Nice to see you, Stamford," he says, giving the man a strong handshake and a pat on the shoulder. 

Stamford grins. "You as well. See you're keeping the property maintained," he says, glancing around. "Anyways, this is John Watson. He's a friend, looking for a place to stay. John, this is Sherlock Holmes." 

Sherlock reaches forward to shake the other man's hand. John Watson is a short, stocky man. His hair is blonde and short. He's only a little older than Sherlock, but he has a maturity that shows through his face. He wears an old brown t shirt and blue jeans and a pair of working boots. He only has a duffel bag with him. "How do you do?" Sherlock greets.

"Thank you for putting me up on such short notice," John says, with a small, grateful smile. 

"John has just come back from the war," Stamford tells Sherlock. "He's a good friend and a good man. I think you two will get along well. I would have put him up but you know," he gives a hearty chuckle. "The wife and kids." 

"Yes well, I'm sure he'll be a good fit here," Sherlock says, then to John, "Why don't you grab the rest of your luggage?"

"Oh," John starts, looking a bit embarrassed. He hold up his duffel bag. "This is all I have, actually." 

Sherlock doesn't say anything and moves the conversation along. "Alright well...I guess it's time to go inside then. Stamford, thank you for everything."

"Not a problem. Call me if there's anything you need," he says, then turns to John. "John, it's been a pleasure. I hope you're comfortable here."

They shake hands and Stamford retreats into the car. Within a few seconds, he's gone, leaving Sherlock and John standing alone together. Sherlock turns towards the other man. 

"This is a beautiful property," John says. "Must be ancient." 

Sherlock nods. "It is very old. Let me take your bag. Let's go inside." 

*

Sherlock doesn't bother giving John a full tour of the house. It's much too large and he doesn't feel like wasting his day with that. Instead, he shows him the kitchen, the dining room and of course his bedroom which has an attached bathroom. Sherlock watched as John sets his duffel bag down on his bed and begins to unpack his things. There's very little in the bag. It's mostly clothes and Sherlock notices some photographs and notebooks in the bottom. He decides he's invading the man's privacy and declares that he has things to do and if the other man needs him he should be around somewhere. 

With that, Sherlock sets off, leaving John to his own devices. It feels strange having another person in the hour, even though he can't see him. The feeling of being alone is comfortable for Sherlock and now its changed. Sherlock used to have a gardener who was often around the property and a chef, who made his meals but he fired them on account of wanting to be alone. He didn't cafe if his garden looked beautiful and he didn't always eat most meals, anyways. 

Sherlock spends the first half of the day in his office, composing music. He works on a sonata that he started weeks ago, adding the finishing touches and testing it out on his violin. By the time noon rolls around, he decides its time to check on his bees. He heads out to the apiary, with only gloves on and no other coverings. He tuts around, making sure everything is in order and collecting honey combs and honey. He sits back and watches the bees do their jobs, watching them buzz around. It's his favourite thing to do. To simply relax and observe the bees being themselves. 

"Shouldn't you have some sort of protection on?" John's voice slides through the air and Sherlock jumps. He turns around. The other man is standing sort of awkwardly. His hands are stuffed in his pockets and he's put on a backwards baseball cap since they last talked. "Sorry for scaring you." 

"Its fine," Sherlock mutters. "What do you need?"

"Oh, um...nothing. I was just taking a look around the property, is all," John tells him. "Its beautiful out here." 

"Yes," Sherlock says. He turns back around to watch the bees. Behind him, John shuffles awkwardly on his feet. He walks forward and comes to stand beside the other man. 

"Stamford told me you kept bees," John says, quietly. "And you sell your honey? That's pretty cool. Must be nice, although I'm a bit nervous just to be standing so close to them." 

Sherlock glances at John out of the corner of his eyes. He huffs. "They are not aggressive. Quite the opposite," he murmurs. 

"You should still be wearing some sort of protection, though. Don't you have any?" 

"I do, stored away. I've been doing this for so long that I really have no use for them. I trust them." 

John shifts. "Hmm. That's beautiful. They are beautiful. Still nervous though," he chuckles. 

Sherlock turns to look at John. "They won't sting you. You needn't be afraid." 

John laughs, a short, bright laugh. "You're so formal." Sherlock turns away, facing the bees again. He's not sure what to say. "Um," John starts again. "Are you hungry? I was just about to go inside and make some lunch." 

"No thank you." 

"Okay. Well, I'll be going now. See you." 

John walks off. Sherlock waits before he's across the yard to turn around and watch him walk. What an interesting man.


End file.
